


"The Dreams They Had"

by Mooninscorpio



Category: Person if interest tv, Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-02-17 09:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2304827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooninscorpio/pseuds/Mooninscorpio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short ficlet written as a dream sequence based on events in "Ladykiller" and "Endgame" in Season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"The Dreams They Had"

THE DREAMS THEY HAD" - short dream sequence taken from events in "Lady Killer", "Endgame")

"Thanks for the beer John, I really needed that" Carter sighed softly as she gazed sideways at him, noticing that his bottle was still half-full, his cowlick softly blowing in the crisp  
autumn night breeze. "I'll be seeing you, Joss, I'm here if you need to call me", his eyes filled with an inexplicable emotion, she had only begun to notice only recently.  
When did he start reminding her to call him if she needed him? Was it after she had caught Elias and hid him in the basement? Was it sometime after he had called her when he and Shaw were on a stakeout together, and he had called her in the midst of a car chase? Or was it after she had gone on that cyber date with Ian, and he had escorted her home, knowing Taylor was restlessly awake in bed, waiting for her return? "I know John, will do." She smiled tightly, thinking, "No I can't call you, not just yet, I have to take them down by myself, this is my own personal mission, and it's far too dangerous to get you involved. You're the Man in the Suit HR will kill on sight. Laskey just as much said so, in the bar, and she had kept her cool as usual, although she was burning with rage at him, for threatening John. Reese noticed the grim set of her eyebrows as began to unlock her door.

"Hopefully next time we share a beer, it'll be to celebrate something really big." he said lightly in that sardonic way of his. "Hope it's the big fish we beat down next time" she  
tossed her head back for emphasis before going inside.

Back home, John finally sprawled onto the bed, half drunk, sore in every muscle in his body, his body on high tension from giving Simmons his long overdue night of pain. John  
knew Simmons was the lieutenant, the neck in the head of the cobra which was HR. Finch had been noticing that Carter shut her phone off more often now, especially after hours  
about 8:30 or so, and John had noticed that the handwritten note with the Russian contact's name was NOT Joss's handwriting. He wondered who was her source to the names of these despicable mobsters? The name ELIAS ominously came to mind, but it seemed too dark for Joss to be involved in. Hold your enemies closer was the old saying. Could Joss be capable of even crossing the line that far over, to bring HR down on her own terms? Joss and/or Taylor possibly physically tortured/raped or killed by the Russians or HR was enough to lose his shit and forever spiral down into oblivion even worse than before Harold saved him.

  
Sleep came long past midnight, and in his dreams, instead of holding a beer bottle in his hand, he held Joss, right up against the side of her car, his hands feeling the smooth leather dress she wore, at last feeling her body against his, kissing her like a man drowning…dreams of staking out her apartment late at night, seeing her pass across her window, in nothing but a light negligee, and wanting to climb up three steps at a time, to get to her, and in the dream, he is already in her apartment, after picking the lock and bypassing the security alarm, standing at her bedroom door, walking towards her,  realizing that he was in love with her, the real flesh and blood woman who knew him for who he really was, and still came to save him anyway.  

Realizing this, he woke up in a panicked sweat, needing to call her and tell her that he was in love with her but cursing his past and present.  He stood in front of the mirror, and looked …and reality set in with a loud shutting  window. You both could never live a normal life together, not with all these enemies, not  with the Numbers mission, not with John's knowledge of the Machine, not with Decima, Vigillance, HR, the Russian mob and everyone else in the CIA still searching  for him worldwide.

Three-thirty in the morning, and Finch would be calling him to show up bright and early for another Number no doubt.  He'd need extra high octane Starbucks today for sure.   If there wasn't a new number, he'd  go the the library early and tell Finch what he suspects about Elias especially, with Carter being so secretive recently. Maybe Finch might be able to decipher the unknown handwriting.

3:00 a.m. Joss dreamt she was back in Iraq, in the interrogation room with Yussef … but his face was Reese's and Donnelley was sitting in the corner watching her  
intently. Then the face changed, and Elias' face replaced Reese's, his off-center laughter as he said " these are dangerous people" as he handed her the slip of paper with the Russian's on it. Then she runs into her superiors, and they tell her that Yusef was compromised, and she loses her shit, and one of the bastards looks like Laskey, and calls her an "arrogant bitch". She runs through the stone arched rooms to get away from all of them, She runs and in blur of tears, she bumps into John, and the scene changes to midtown Manhattan. The first time she is in the arms of the Man in the Suit, if only for brief seconds. But the impact, physically, - an assault on all of her senses, his faint smell of aftershave, his 6'2" frame a haven of safety, and the first time they've ever fully touched each other. "John! she cried, "what are you doing here?! His always quiet,  even voice responding, "You didn't call me Joss, so I had to go above and beyond and come to you instead."  Then as dreams so often change, she was back in her office at the precinct, and John was standing in the doorway, walking towards her, wordlessly.  She saw the naked desire in his eyes, as he approached her.  

"John, what are you doin' here so late at night?" she whispered frantically looking around the office quickly, to check for anyone following him.  

"Couldn't sleep Joss.  That ladykiller Number better not try and follow you home again." And with that, he stopped short of her desk, where she sat with her legs dangling.  And the dream was always the same when it came to this part:  his black coat covering her like a protective blanket, his arms holding her at last and his lips finally on hers, after all this time of waiting her whole life for someone like him.  The rest of it … 

Joss woke suddenly,  desperately trying to fall asleep to finish the phenomenal dream, with John's words in her dream ringing in her ears heavily. From somewhere in the recesses of her groggy mind, Ian's words came back in a mocking whisper, "I always go above and beyond and anticipate a woman's needs. You should try it sometime John." She suddenly realized John, a man she called good, in front of Donnelley, went above and beyond, every day, with the Numbers, with saving innocent lives, often without thanks, his very life on a collision course with certain death, as she remembered how he walked into a hailstorm of bullets like a Green Beret, to save Taylor's life.  That day, her resolve to bring in the Man In The Suit began to wane in earnest and she about-faced to join in a cause whose origins she hardly knew anything about.  

She felt her way through the top drawer of her night stand, underneath the velvet drawer lining, and removed the photo of John and the unknown beautiful blonde.  She studied John's expression for the hundredth time, marveling at how happy in love he looked back then. Back then?  Before the government, and war and whatever terrible deeds he had to commit in the name of country brought him to a nearly sorry end, into her precinct.   Images of her long estranged husband flooded her thoughts. He was a good man, and then he became someone I couldn't even recognize anymore, and then he was gone. John, you were not a good man but then you became a good man, someone who is getting harder to recognize from that wounded man long ago, but I DON'T WANT YOU TO BE GONE.  My own husband refused to get help and change, but you, whom I've never called my own, you've shown me that you could change. Her hand shook as she held the old photo near her breast as she silently cursed how complicated he would be to call her own, and love, just like the young woman in the photo had loved him.

Someday, she would give him back his photo, at the right time and  place, during a special moment when he'd  be ready to reconcile his past with his present. She would gently tell him that she'd always known his real name, had read his entire classified file, and then destroyed it because it really didn't matter to her who and what he was.  It only mattered that he had saved her son's life and looked out for her safety every day.  One side of him was truly the "Angel of Death" when he used his Special Forces skills, but he was also a "guardian angel" and had a fiercely protective streak towards those he cherished.  Was she and Taylor among the select few in that inner circle?  She put the photo  back into the safe haven of her nightstand, away from the harsh reality of the present.  She placed the sealed envelope on top of it before smoothing down the drawer lining again.   

"If you ever change back to the way you used to be, I'll hate you forever." she sadly murmured burying her face and her dream of him, back into her pillow.  


End file.
